


Keith Kogane: The Complete Saga

by lilacsandstars



Series: Keith Kogane: The Complete Saga [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1960s, Angst, Established Keith/Lance, Intense, M/M, Mildly Graphic Injuries, PINING KEITH, boxer keith, boxing au, gettheclout, gettheclout says good luck, it’s a pretty slow burn first chapter but it’s fluffy, keith is rocky, keith is rocky balboa change my mind, lance is adrian, lotor is apollo, sendak is clubber, shiro is mickey, slowburn, yes keith is a boxer boy, yes lance owns a pet shop, yes shiro is an old man in this, zarkon is drago
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-03-30 03:50:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19034197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilacsandstars/pseuds/lilacsandstars
Summary: Keith Kogane is your basic Philadelphia club fighter. He’s hard headed, works on the side by threatening his boss’s clients into paying their debt, boxes like his life depends on it, and has his eyes locked on a local pet store owner.He doesn’t think he has much but he appreciates it.Until he gets the offer of a lifetime and the chance to box with the Heavyweight Champion of the World on live television.Can he hold up? Or will it all fall downhill?————————————————————Or the fic where Keith is Rocky Balboa and I rewrite the entire series but mostly for Klance.





	1. Club Fighter from Philly

**Author's Note:**

> I finally got around to starting this!!! It’s a really big accomplishment for me. I might go all the way to Rocky V for reference, but i’ll just see where this series leads me. It is, after all, a five-movie-long series.

Keith Kogane was a fighter. A true fighter. Not just with his fists, but with his mind and his heart. He was your normal Philadelphia club fighter who did side jobs of threatening his boss’s clients into paying their debt. He had to say, he’d go easy on them sometimes because he knew it was hard to pay things off sometimes, one being himself. Nevertheless, he persisted in doing his work for the pay he’d get. It was pretty good; better than what the fight club gave him. 

Which brings us to the present hour. Keith is currently facing off in the fight club arena, a drug down and beaten up old place. He’s in the ring with one of the other fighters there, and he’s losing his stamina already. He wasn’t extremely fit, but he had muscle. There was a bite behind his punch. He and the guy laid a few punches until the small bell over in the corner was rung. The ref split them up and Keith slumped down in his corner while the random trainer he was assigned presented him water. 

“You’re looking rough out there, kid,” he rasped. Keith nodded and heaved. One of the audience members trotted up to the ring and required Keith’s attention. He turned to the man slowly and with aching muscles. 

“You feeling good, champ?” the guy asked. “Think you can beat this guy?” Keith soon realized the guy was thinking of betting. Keith nodded and coughed. 

“Never better,” he grumbled as he put his mouth guard back in. He sauntered back up to the ring and waited for the bell to make that familiar low *ding* sound. When it did, he began moving around slowly. 

The opposer was raring to punch again, and Keith was trying his best to move away from them or throw something back, but he couldn’t really focus. His mind was foggy and muddy like lake water. 

Before he knew it, the guy was punching Keith square in the jaw multiple times and making him stagger backward into the surroundings of the ring. Once Keith was on them, the guy head butted him. Keith yelped in pain and the crowd booed the opposer. The ref scolded him and gave him a warning. Keith growled and a mad glint surfaced in his eyes. He marched forward and grabbed the guy, punching him with all he had. 

The guy’s head flew back with each impact, and even after the bell sounded, Keith was still punching. The blood from the gash above his eyebrow was threatening to pool into his line of sight, but he continued to punch the guy. The ref finally split them up. The man from earlier was cheering loudly, for his bid placed had been won. 

As Keith headed back to the locker rooms, his head pounded and his heart still tried to find a steady rate to beat at. He slumped down into a bench and lit a cigarette, inhaling the nicotine like it was what he needed to live. He regained his breath and the owner of the gym walked in. 

“Hey, loser,” he called to the one beside Keith. “You get $40 minus five for using the showers and 7% tax. $17.20.” He turned to Keith and walked over sharply, stopping in his tracks at least one foot away from him. 

“Alright, Keith,” he sighed, “$65, $15 locker and corner, $5 shower and tax is 7%. $40.55.” Keith felt his insides drop. He really was getting a low pay. It was better than nothing, but a hundred dollar prize for the win would be preferred. 

“Thanks,” Keith mumbled quietly as he took his things, and gathered up to leave. 

“You put up a fight, kid,” the opposer called out to him. “Real good fight.” Keith nodded his respects but still hated the guy for busting his eye. What a mindless jerk. 

Keith walked home and stumbled upon the choral group of men who sat in a corner, melodic tunes of the blues stitching in the night air. He grinned slightly at the sound of their voices. It was a wonder that they weren’t wildly famous. 

He borrowed a bottle of wine from one of the guys and saluted his thanks. Should he be drinking wine? No. Definitely not. But is he? Yes. Most definitely yes. He deserved it, don’t cock your brow at him. Or do. He still shamed himself for it. 

He trotted on his way back to his apartment to find a guy abandoned outside his favorite bar. He tossed they guy over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and lugged him inside. Keith slid the man into a booth and headed for the counter. 

“What can I do for ya, Champ?” the bartender asked. Keith sighed and met the guy’s eyes. 

“Luis,” Keith responded. “Whereabouts?” The bartender nodded in realization and huffed. 

“Bathroom,” he pointed in the direction of the disgusting restrooms. Keith grimaced and followed to it. He opened the door to see Luis shaving his stubbly beard in the broken mirror shard on the wall. 

“Luis,” Keith deadpanned, “what the actual hell.” Luis turned, and was obviously not sober. 

“What’re ya gonna do ‘bout it, Keith?” Luis slurred. Keith rolled his eyes and sighed in annoyance. Luis was his best friend for nearly 15 years, but god, was he still as bitter. 

“I’ll fight you and win like I did tonight,” Keith replied, and Luis hooted in acknowledgment. 

“Thatta boy, Keithy!” Luis slapped his shoulder clumsily and congratulated him. Keith grinned slightly. “My brother would love to hear that.” Keith immediately flushed and flicked Luis in the ear. 

“Shut your trap!” he hissed. “You’re making me look stupid.” Luis smirked. 

“You should ask him on a date,” Luis cooed, and Keith retched. 

“W-What?” Keith shrieked. “Are you insane?” Luis laughed and nodded, then patted Keith’s shoulder lazily. “But are you serious?” Luis cackled in his drunken state and winked. 

“He’s all yours, Keithy,” Luis snickered, “he’s bi as a foreign man who’s learning to speak english.”

“That was the worst thing you’ve ever said,” Keith glared at him, “but you’re drunk so I can’t drag you too hard.” Luis laughed. 

“Ask him,” Luis nudged him, then walked out of the restroom, and Keith followed. Luis snatched a cold beer off of the counter and the bartender protested. 

“Ey, Luis!” he shouted. “Keith, a little help here?” Keith sighed and looked to Luis, who was too far away to retrieve now. His legs were too sore to carry even a trot. 

“Just put it on my tab,” Keith said grumpily, and the bartender shrugged, then pulled out a card and placed Keith’s name on it. Keith walked out of the bar and down the street to his apartment. It was shabby, but it was home. 

The entire way home, he thought about how Luis told Keith he could ask Lance on a date. Lance was a pet shop owner that Keith had grown fond of. His shy persona was intriguing, but only because Keith could see through it. He knew Lance could be chipper and outgoing if he’d just let it out. 

Keith used to be the same way. 

Shy...

Alone. 

Keith finally made it to his apartment and entered his small abode. He hung his leather coat on its designated rack, along with his fedora, and he walked over to the fridge. He opened a bottle of soda and walked over to his pet turtle’s tank. 

“Hey there, little dude,” Keith grinned. “How was your day? Mine was alright, I almost got hurt pretty bad, though. Some idiot decided to try to bash my brains out. You wanna say ‘hi’ to Pearlie?” Keith grabbed his goldfish’s tank and set it beside his turtle’s. 

“I hope you guys behaved today,” Keith chuckled, then turned to walk to his mirror. He inspected the gash that was clotting above his brow. He winced as he touched it. 

He picked up a carton of turtle food and pretended to talk to Lance. He needed a preparation session. 

“So this time when I bought the turtle food,” he began, “it didn’t have enough moss in it, it wasn’t just a bunch of moths and flies. Not that the turtles don’t like the moths and flies, they love ‘em. But they really enjoy the moss to be equal to the bugs, you know?” Keith stared into his own desperate eyes and sighed in disgust with himself. 

He groaned and covered his face. This was a lot harder than it had seemed. Easier said than done. 

He caught sight of a photograph of him in his youth, to which he picked up to examine. He looked back and forth between himself then and now, small similarities and differences making a part to a huge puzzle piece that he never learned to figure out: himself. 

He put the photo on the counter and walked to the freezer and grabbed a few ice cubes. He placed them cold in his hand and placed his hand against his forehead, where the gash lay. 

After thirty minutes of thinking of Lance and his life situation, he finally fell asleep as the cold ice melted across his forehead and onto his face, but even this couldn’t merge with his sleeping. He was out cold. 

Only dreams of what and who could be still floated in the depths of his mind and displayed themselves amongst his desires. 

To which could come true.


	2. The Side Job

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now we get to see what Keith does behind the scenes sometimes. His small job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS CHAPTER IS SO SHORT IM EXTREMELY SORRY. sis we finna see sum funny

Keith’s side job was something he wasn’t proud of. I mean, going around, threatening poor people, nearly breaking their bones; it wasn’t something he enjoyed. He just got paid a pretty penny for it. Not much more than the boxing club, but quite the pretty penny. If Lance knew about it, he’d probably disown Keith and tell him he was a run down jerk. Keith didn’t disagree with the run down part. He was in a shabby state at the moment. 

His boss, Kolivan, had just given him a new client to deal with for him. 

“Hey, Keith,” he had mumbled in slight anger at the sight of an older man, “do me a favor would ya and get my $200 from that buggo of a guy, ey? If he don’t have it then break his dumb thumbs.” Keith’s eyes trailed over to the man Kolivan was talking about and he nodded. 

As Keith made his way over, the man saw him and bolted, trying to escape on a forklift. 

Yes. 

A fucking forklift. 

“Hey!” Keith shouted after him. “Quit bein’ a looney and get down here! Hey!” The man jumped off the forklift and tried to run off, but Keith caught up to him and grabbed him by the coat collar, then pinned him against a large light pole. 

“Hey, I don’t want any trouble,” the guy mumbled. Keith raised a brow and left his mouth slightly open in amusement. 

“Oh,” Keith said sarcastically. “Oh, you don’t want any trouble, do ya?” The guy shook his head frantically and chuckled breathlessly, still heaving for breath. 

“Well here’s how it is, buddy,” Keith gritted at him, “you owe a friend of mine some money and the deadline’s today. Cough it up, big guy, or I’m gonna get the pleasure of breaking your two little thumbs.” The guy squeaked in fright and shook in anticipation. 

“I’m broke,” he spoke quickly, “I-I’m broke.” Keith scoffed and took a small step closer. 

“You’re broke, ey?” he licked his lips. “Hand me your wallet.” The guy shakily rustled it out, then handed it to Keith, who eyed him suspiciously. He opened up the cheap leather wallet to find $170. 

“You’re in the hole thirty bucks,” Keith spat, and the guy opened and closed his mouth. 

“I told ya, I ain’t got nothin’,” he replied in fright of what Keith would do now. 

“You better get this in, you headass,” Keith snarled, and the guy shrugged. 

“I can give ya my coat here, it costs more than I owed in the first place!” he offered, taking the coat off. Keith tsked and shoved the jacket back onto him. 

“Nah, you keep that,” he scoffed in amusement. The guy gave a look of concern and dread for his future. 

“But it’ll cover-“ he tried to talk, but Keith cut him off. 

“You shoulda planned ahead,” the man continued to try to interrupt, but Keith asked quicker to it, “Shoulda planned ahead!” He stomped off. Geez, the idiots in Philly. 

Keith was a part of the community, obviously, but he wasn’t that dumb. If you’re gonna ask for favors or gamble, be ready for it to bite later. 

He lit a cigarette and waited on the bridge for Kolivan and his assistant. When they finally arrived, Keith got in the backseat. 

“How’d it go, Keith?” Kolivan asked. 

“He had one-seventy on him,” Keith grumbled. “Thirty in the hole.” Kolivan sighed. 

“Did ya break his sorry thumbs?” Kolivan asked. Keith shook his head and Kolivan sighed. 

“Pull over,” he ordered the driver, who obeyed. “Keith, get out with me.” They walked over to the side of the road and Kolivan huffed. 

“Kolivan, it was just thirty bucks,” Keith began, but Kolivan glared at him hard. 

“Yeah, thirty extra bucks that that scumbag owes me and that I could have in my pocket right now!” he shouted at Keith. “We’ve been over this so many times, Keith! When I tell you to break someone’s thumbs, you break their damn thumbs!” Keith gulped and nodded, looking at the railing beside them. 

“Yeah, I got it,” Keith replied. 

“Do you?” Kolivan asked as he threw his cigarette ashes onto Keith’s shirt. “Do you really?” He walked back to the car without Keith, leaving him on the sidewalk. 

They began to drive off without him, but slowly. 

“I shoulda broke your thumbs!” Keith shouted after them, and it only made them speed up. Keith scoffed and kicked at the dirt that piled up on the cement. He began walking home, yet again. This job sucked. 

Keith hates Kolivan. 

Keith hates the fight club. 

Keith hates his shitty pay. 

Keith hates the fact that he’s not gone on a date with Lance yet. 

Keith hates his life. 

Keith. Hates. Everything. 

But not Lance. He loves Lance with a majority of his heart. The other part belongs to boxing. Mostly Lance, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my high school’s mascot is wildcats so every single day i’m gonna quote high school musical fIGHT THE POWER

**Author's Note:**

> bow chicka bow wowwwzaaaaa


End file.
